


Prospero

by OfficialStarsandGutters



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 13:26:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5292722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfficialStarsandGutters/pseuds/OfficialStarsandGutters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr prompt: Meeting Pez and/or their first week<br/>"I would not wish any companion in the world but you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prospero

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seazu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seazu/gifts).



“Uhm, hi, I'm here to adopt a cat? I called ahead. They said I could come down to view them.”

“Yes, of course,” the pretty volunteer (Jenny, her name tag says) tells him with a smile. “Come right this way.”

She leads Richard through a room of dogs in cages, many who jump excitedly against their bars to greet him, and he feels his chest clench. He wishes he had the time, the room, the lifestyle to care for a dog. Even more so now, seeing their sad eyes staring up at him, their tails wagging furiously just because he's given them the attention of looking at them. But he doesn't, and it wouldn't be fair of him to take on a dog when he can't give them the life they deserves.

A cat, however, he can manage.

Richard is overcome by the noise of the place. The rattling of cages, the barking that follows through the wall from the dog section, the yowling and hissing of the cats. Also the smell. It's not that it's an awfully bad one, it's just a strong mixture of cleaning products and animal scent.

A majority of the cats are old. Some actually growl as he passes, but most just observe him lazily through the bars. There's few he sees with any visible injury, but he knows that doesn't necessarily mean they are alright.

“Do you have any idea of what you're looking for?” Jenny asks him.

“Not in particular, no.”

“Well, we had two kittens come in a few days ago, if you want a younger cat. One of them has already been claimed, but there's still one.”

“Oh, I was actually thinking maybe an older cat,” Richard says, but she's already opening one of the little barred doors.

Richard doesn't believe in love at first sight, but the moment he spots the black fluff ball in her hands, he adores him. She coos at him to try and hush his tiny, weak cries, and Richard finds himself automatically taking a step forward.

“Would you like to hold him?”

He nods, and she gently hands the small, quivering ball of cat to him. The kitten gives another meek cry of protest. His tiny claws scratch at Richard's hands and hook into skin, but he barely notices. The kitten's eyes open, and he peeks up at Richard. Two tiny bright blue marbles.

“He's been through quite a lot, this one,” Jenny says. “He was originally from a litter of five. They were tied in a bag and thrown in the Thames. By the time someone pulled the bag out, these two little guys were the only ones we could save.”

“That's awful.” Richard cradles the kitten gently against his chest. In the cage, he can see another kitten. The second kitten is a mixture of black and white patches. Richard can't tell if he's white with black patches or black with white patches.

“Yeah.” Jenny sighs. “Some people. Unfortunately we hear way too many of those kind of stories here. Anyway, you can feel free to have a look around at the other cats-”

“No, I, uh. I actually would really like this one, if that's alright?”

“That's fine,” Jenny says, smiling. “Pretty hard not to fall in love when someone hands you a kitten, right?”

Richard laughs.

“Definitely.”

He had come with the intention of adopting an older cat. One considered ugly, or with an injury. One of the less adoptable cats, so he could give them a home when no one else would. However, now that he's held this tiny, precious thing, now he's heard his story, there's no way he can leave him here.

*

His kitten is too young to bring home straight away, so for almost a month he waits impatiently. He's packed out the cupboard with what must be a month's supply of cat food. He's bought the litter box, the bed, several different toys. He's got the scratching post, a big one, built like a tower with little hidey holes. He's read countless online articles about looking after his cat. He's cat proofed the house, passed his inspection visit, and even chosen a name: Prospero.

Finally the day comes when he can bring him home. When he first lets him out of the carrier, Prospero just stands quivering in the middle of the living room. Then he darts off, squeezing himself in the side of the bookcase. Richard tries to coax him out with a toy. It doesn't work. After half an hour, he leaves a bowl of food near the shelf and backs off.

After another ten minutes, Prospero's little head pokes out. He sniffs the air. He gives a high pitched cry, testing if the noise will draw attention, before he pads out and eats the food. When he's done, Richard gently scoops him up. He puts up minimal fight, giving Richard a few scratches, but he is full and complacent, his furry belly swollen with food.

Richard sits on the couch. He carefully sets Prospero on his lap. After having a little sniff around, the kitten curls into a ball and settles down. Tentatively, Richard draws his finger between Prospero's ears. A soft purr rumbles in his chest, and Richard grins like an idiot.

*

After a few days, Prospero gets more adventurous. He's started climbing, but he is not very good at getting down again. Thus far, Richard has had to rescue him from the top of the curtains, the bookcase, the bed, and the second drawer in his bedroom.

“Why do you keep climbing if you know you can't get down?” he asks, untangling Prospero's claws from one of his socks. Prospero bares his teeth in an answering angry miaowing cry. “Fair enough.”

*

Weeks slide by. Prospero somehow becomes Pez, though Richard himself can't pinpoint where the nickname came from, and Pez becomes much bolder. As his body changes from kitten to cat, his eyes shift from bright blue to striking green. He is no longer the small, nervous fluff ball that Richard first came home with. He has lengthened, become more lanky and graceful. He no longer needs assistance getting down from tall places. He runs freely around the flat.

He also has picked out his favourite places by now, the key one being Richard's bed. It was a waste, really, buying the cat bed, for all the time Pez spends in it. He doesn't spend half as much time in Richard's lap any more, either, preferring his freedom to roam as he pleases. Still, every now and then he will take the time to nuzzle up against Richard, mark him anew, his claim, as if he were the one that picked Richard and not the other way around.

Richard just smiles, nuzzling back against his little rascal.

“I would not wish any companion in the world but you.”

 

 


End file.
